What Makes Me A Good Demoman
by LotanaDaScienca
Summary: Blue and Orange are heading from sunny Southern California all the way to dreary Baltimore for the 2011 Comic-Con. But when the car breaks down in the Mojave, they meet some very odd characters.   Fail Summary
1. Chapter 1

What Makes Me a Good Demoman (Chapter 1)

Author's Note: I'll be doing both 'Test Subject #100' and this at the same time. I apologize if I'm a bit slow getting up chapters, though. Anyway! A quick character description or two then let's jump right in!

Orange: 18 year old girl, tall and skinny, flat as a brick wall. Short-as-a-boy's, messy brown hair with dark magenta highlights. Slight British accent, a Portal Fangirl.

Blue: A 17 year old boy, nerdy build, messy brown hair. Wears a pair of glasses. American accent, an artist, more of a TF2 fanboy.

I parked my beat-up red sedan in front of his house and got out, slamming the dented door behind me. I had my own handmade version of Chell's outfit (from Portal 2, of course!) slung over my arm as I ring my best-friend-since-preschool's door bell.

He pulled open the door. He hadn't gotten into his cosplaying outfit yet. Instead, he was wearing his normal jeans-and-a-tee, his brown hair messier than mine. "Orange!" He pulled me into a bone-crushing hug.

"Owch, Blue! You're squishing the life outa me!" I gasped, squirming in his grasp.

"Sorry!" Blue rubbed his head apologetically. Now, I know that Blue and Orange are pretty weird names. But they aren't; not really. In Co-Op, he's always Blue, and I'm always Orange. So we call each other that. Plus, the BLU Team is his favourite team on Team Fortress 2. "Come inside!" My best friend invited me. "I got something to show you."

I followed him inside his house. It was a small house, fairly normal looking, except almost every surface was covered in papers. Blue was writing a graphic novel, so he was constantly drawing. "What is it, Blue?" I asked him as he led me into his office.

He looked down at his feet. "Well...I made a more appropriate costume for you..." I sighed inwardly. We were driving from sunny Southern California to dreary Baltimore, Maryland just so Blue could advertise his graphic novel about a RED Demoman and a BLU Scout falling in love at the 2011 Comic-Con. And for weeks he had been nagging me to be his Demoman.

"Don't tell me you made me a Demoman costume!" I said weakly. He really wasn't going to let it drop, was he?

"Please, Orange, please! I promise I won't ask anything of you again!" Blue pleaded, his green eyes opening wide. "Please, please, please, please!"

"Oh, Blue..." I sighed, unable to tell my friend no again. "Okay, fine. I'll do it!"

"Yay! Orange, I'll owe you forever! Like the nine-nine-nine-nine-nine-nine-nine kind of forever!" Excited, Blue pulled out a large shopping bag and held it out to me. Intrigued, I peered inside. Yep. The Demoman costume. I stripped down to my underwear and bra (Blue and I had both seen each other naked, so it wasn't a big deal. And before you even think it, no. No no no. Not that way.) and he helped me in it. It fitted very well, and had a lot of padding to make me look less like a tall skinny girl and more like a man.

"What makes me a good Demoman?" I joked in a bad imitation of a Scottish accent. We felling over laughing at my joke. A silly thing to full-blown rolling-on-floor-laughing over, but we were best friends. It was normal for us.

"Lemme go put on my outfit, and we'll go take a few pictures, okay?" Blue said, standing up to dash out to his room.

"Okay! Don't forget to get your bags!" I called after him. "Haha...Demopan." I giggled, then saw my own reflection. My jaw dropped. If it wasn't for my magenta highlights, I would've said that I was a man. "Wow," I breathed. "Blue must've worked really hard on this."

"Back!" Blue said, startling me. He was wearing his BLU scout outfit, complete with baseball bat. He flexed a non-existent muscle. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes. Y'know, if you weren't wearing those nerd-goggles if yours, I would say you were the Scout himself!" I teased him, elbowing him gently.

He rolled his eyes. "Haha, Orange. 'Y'know what makes me laugh? The thought of you cutting that out.'" Blue quoted my favorite AI playfully.

"Did you hear the one about the turned-off reassembly machine?" I asked him, joking around.

"Go ahead and turn it off, hero. I don't care." Blue changed up the line a bit, grinning. Damn. He got me there.

I raised my hands up in the air, surrendering. "You win this round, Blue. C'mon. We have to drive all the way from sunny CA all the way to Baltimore, and rush hour traffic's gonna set in soon."

"Okay!" Blue grabbed his suitcase and we walked out of the door, most likely looking very silly as Demoman and Scout tried to fit aforementioned suitcase into the tiny trunk of my beat-up red sedan.


	2. Chapter 2

What Makes Me A Good Demoman (Chapter 2)

Blue and I discussed advertising tactics as we drove. "Y'know," He said thoughtfully. "We could act out one of the scenes. Like, the exciting romantic scenes."

I hit the breaks suddenly, flinging him into the dashboard. "...No." I managed to choke out, truly shocked by the idea. He could put me into a Demoman's cosplaying outfit, but no way was I going to pretend to make love to him in public just to get him a few more readers. Heck, I was a virgin. I didn't know anything about that.

"Okay, okay! No need to act so offended!" Blue said defensively, peeling his body of the car's dash. "It was just a suggestion!" He sighed. "I'm so braindead right now. I really wish I hadn't stayed up to work on your costume."

I was touched. Blue stayed up all night for me? "Get some sleep, Blue. I think I can handle driving on my own for a while." I grinned at him.

He chuckled, then yawned. "I doubt I could sleep right now. I'm too excited." Blue continued to protest, but I drowned him out, humming 'Cara Mia' (AKA The Turret's Opera) to myself. "That's not fair," He protested weakly, my humming lulling him to sleep. "That's...not...fai-" My buddy dozed off, ending his sentence with a snore.

"Ah, sweet success." I celebrated softly. Blue really did need sleep, though. The poor guy was an insomniac, so I often had to resort to ridiculous methods to get him to sleep. It didn't help that he was spending every other night working on that thrice-blasted novel of his. "I love that you're enjoying yourself and your work, but you really need to take care of yourself," I muttered softly to the still-sleeping Blue. But even if he was awake, he would've just laughed off my concern over his health. I sighed. Poor Blue.

We drove together in almost-silence, with only the rhythmic snoring of Blue and the rough purr of the engine. We'd only been driving for about 4 and a half hours before I shook him awake, excited. "Look, Blue! The Mojave Desert!" It wasn't much to look at, yes, but I'd never seen a desert before. Unless you count in pictures.

Blue groaned. "Wha...?" My best friend blinked the sleep out of his eyes, then sat up, excited. "It looks kinda like 2fort!"

I laughed. "Minus the fact that there's nothing out here. Nothing but the wind, the sky, and a lot of dirt." I added, eyeing the flat boring land.

"And the cactuses!" He added, grinning.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, no! How could I ever forget the cacti?" As we drove on Route 15, we argued about the importance of Cacti/Cactuses in the desert and which is the proper plural. Because we're nerds like that.

My car made a disturbing noise, cutting off Blue's statement of why little animals depend on cactuses to survive. "Uh-oh. That doesn't sound good." He said apprehensively, giving my car a look that said, loud and clear, 'Don't-you-dare-break-down'.

I pulled over to the side of the road. "I'm gonna check it out, okay? Maybe we hit something." I volunteered, popping open the old sedan's door. Blue scrambled out.

"Don't forget me! There might be creepers out here, Orange." He said, concerned. "Plus, sitting in a hot car has 'bad idea' written all over it."

I rolled my eyes at him, then opened up the hood. A cloud of smoke filled the air, causing me to turn and cough. "I'm not an expert on cars," Blue began. "But I would say that doesn't look good."

"Gee, thanks." I said sarcastically. I took my old cell phone put of my pocket, and flipped it open. "Time to call a tow trunk."


	3. Chapter 3

What Makes Me A Good Demoman (Chapter 3)

"I'm sorry ma'am, but we don't service that area." The voice of the tow-truck operator apologized.

"I thought you serviced everywhere!" I could not believe this. Those TV ads had lied to me.

"I apologize, but there is really nothing we can do about it." He said again. This was absolutely ridiculous.

Blue gestured for me to hand him the phone. Fed up with the tow-truck man, I tossed it to him, and he began to speak rapidly into it, discussing terms and financial stuff. It sounded like he was bribing the tow-truck man. After a few minutes he went, "Uh-huh. Mmhm. Alright, thanks. G'bye!" Blue closed the old phone, hanging up, and gave it back to me. "He should be here in about an hour."

I sighed. "We'll die from heatstroke before he gets here." Blue took my hand and led me back into the car.

"C'mon. We can sit in here. It'll be out of the sun, at least." Blue said, trying to comfort me. We popped open the car doors, and sat in the front seats. This was sooooo boring. I shrugged off my Demoman's vest, envious of Blue's running shorts and thin t-shirt. I was dying in here.

"I'm dying in here..." I moaned, my body half in-half out of the car. I wiped the salty sweat off my forehead, and fanned myself franticly.

"Oh god, Orange! I forgot you were still wearing that." Blue bit his lip. "I'll go hop around to the back, 'kay? Then I'll go fetch some clean clothes out of your suitcase." He brushed my magenta-brown hair out of my eyes. "Don't move."

I groaned. "Be quick!" I did not want Blue out of my sight for very long. "Just bring the whole suitcase, okay?"

"Alright!" He called back. I stared up at the car's ceiling as I listened to him hoist my suitcase out of tiny trunk. I could hear it hit the ground and be dragged out. "I got it, Orang-" BANG. A noise like a gunshot, then a thump. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. Blue's been shot! I threw my vest back on, hoping it would make me look more intimidating. Please let him be alive!

"This isn't the intel!" An unfamiliar voice said. I peered around the edge of the car, afraid of being shot like Blue was. Holy crap. Eight men, all with big guns, were searching through my suitcase. One of them was taking a little too much interest in my undergarments, too. I couldn't believe this. These men shot Blue and are screwing around with my bras! That's it.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" I screamed, body-checking the dude checking out my bras.

"Woah, woah, woah!" The guy said in an Eastern accent. Where from the East Coast, I dunno. But on the other hand, I didn't really care. I pulled back my arm, determined to beat the shit out of this douchebag. "Get him off a' me!" Some big guy pulled me off of that coward, and held my arms behind my back with one big hand.

"What is wrong with Demoman?" He spoke in what I guessed was a Russian accent. What the hell where they doing? They were going to kill Blue, but not me? I bit my lip to keep myself from screaming in frustration.

"What did you do to Blue?" I growled, struggling in the Russian's grasp.

"Mein gott! He's gone mad!" Some tall man in a lab coat leaned forwards to examine my face or something, but I just snapped at him, trying to bite his god damn German nose off. He flinched backwards. Another man made his gun to the chk-chk reloading noise, and I was sure this was the end.

He raised the gun, and everything went black.

Am I dead? I must be. But then...W-where am I? Is this hell? Where's all the fire and brimstone? It can't be heaven...Blue's not here. And there's no angels...

I slowly flickered into consciousness. Damn...My head hurts like hell. I sat up slowly, rubbing the sore spot. "Where am I...?" I muttered to myself. Then the events of the precious day came back to me. Blue. The men. The car.

Oh no...It hit me. Hadn't Blue said it himself? 'It looks like 2fort.' The Medic. The Scout. The Soldier. The Spy. Engineer, Heavy, Pyro, Sniper. I began to hyperventilate. Oh my god. This can't be happening! T-that's a video game! Then it hit me.

Wasn't it so ironic that Blue had been killed by his favourite characters? Cruel, really. And now they took me in. But why?

Then the next thing hit me. They thought I was the RED Demoman. THEY THOUGHT I WAS A DUDE.

Great.

Just great.


End file.
